On Bares And Mares

Have you ever been on a cyclic cycling of endless uncertainties? Of how oneself turned absurdity to self, you keep searching for the core, but nothing to grasp. You highlighted all the options, yet, you couldn’t pick one, because all seems to be like that mysterious cake.

Mares, whether day or night, are likeable to torment, stir and enlighten.

In a misty world of smiling harmattan and pleasing cold.

Words clove in a faraway diaspora,

of a cliché routine.,

fear of how,

not even why nor when.

But of how to sweep the world,

make it bare and mere

embark on the ‘voyage’ to

strike the strikers,

the world on your shoulder

and thine in yours

and you live

to sweep the world

that covers you with its flashing veil.